


Bodyguard

by KenzlesTheNerdish



Category: Original Work
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:04:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenzlesTheNerdish/pseuds/KenzlesTheNerdish
Summary: Iris doesn't want a bodyguard. Mordechai doesn't care.Honestly, it's all gay from there.





	Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rozuredi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozuredi/gifts).



He was a robot. Almost indestructible, if kept healthy- which, as a prince, wasn't hard to do. He could go against armies alone, take hits that would cripple most and still walk away without a scratch.

“You're assigning me a bodyguard?” he demanded, spreading his arms in indignation. “Father, I respect all of your choices, but I beg you to rethink this one.”

The King tilted his head- a square screen, like most of the kingdom- regarding his son with a faint air of amusement. “Iris, I'm merely looking out for you in the Kingdom's time of turmoil. An assassin could be in the building right now.”

“I can take care of myself, father. You saw to that.” Iris replied, torn between ranting outright, and keeping the respect that was called for around his father, the King.

“There are no arguments, this time.” The King said. “He's already waiting outside.”

The Prince broke composure to droop, slightly. Of course, his father had taken everything into his own hands. As per always. He didn't turn as the doors behind him opened and his guard was brought in. Funny, by the sound of his footsteps, Iris could've sworn he sounded like a flesh….

“Iris, meet Mordechai. One of the fleshkind’s greatest warriors.” His father introduced. 

Iris’ gaze snapped to the side, where a flesh and blood man was kneeling in respect for the King. Something was off about him- but Iris didn't know enough about flesh to pinpoint it. Nor did he care- this was more insulting to him than he'd originally thought.

“A flesh?” Iris rose his voice, not even trying to bring it back down. “I could kill him, and you expect him to serve and protect?”

Mordechai had rose from his deep bow and regarded Iris with a contempt look. His four arms crossed to match it. “I could take you up on that challenge, big shot.”

With the leather armor and various weaponry strapped to his waist and back, Iris would have almost considered that a threat. Almost. 

“-and he's talking to me,” Iris glared at his father. “Is this a joke?”

The King kept his patience. “Mordechai is a close friend of Imbi. You remember her, do you not?”

Iris nodded stiffly. “Of course I do.”

“You will give this arrangement a chance.” The King commanded. “And, because the flesh have a different method of servitude, you will accommodate that as well.”

“...what does that mean?” Iris side-eyed the flesh- Mordechai, what a stupid name too- who now looked… smug.

“It means,” Mordechai answered, “We believe in communication between guard and guarded. Therefore, you can't ignore me.”

“I hate you already.” Iris said, without hesitation. “How's that for communication.”

Instead of any other reaction Iris would've enjoyed, like quitting on the spot, the small man grinned. “You're getting it.” 

The King clapped his hands. “Perfect. Now, I have other duties to attend to. Godspeed, both of you.”

Mordechai bowed again. Iris strode out with nary a word. He was well away before he heard Mordechai’s footsteps catching up behind him. The flesh had to jog to catch up with the long strides of a Robot.

“Hey, your highness? Wait up.” He said, fighting to keep in step beside Iris. And, when Iris didn't answer; “Or would you rather me call you Boxhead?”

Iris whipped around. “Do not call me that.”

“Great, I have your attention.” Mordechai stopped as well, doing a fair job hiding the fact he was catching his breath. “You should know that this wasn't my idea in the slightest.”

“So?”

“So, can you not take it out on me? It's not entirely my best interests to be here either.” If Iris were paying attention, he would've caught the covered-up frustration in the man's expression. “Sorry your life is ruined by my presence, buddy, but you're not the only one in this boat.”

Iris narrowed his eye. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Mordechai shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “Try not doing the whole ‘make my life a living hell so I quit’ thing? Because I'm literally not allowed to quit.”

This time Iris was paying attention. He caught the underlying fear in Mordechai’s expression- just like anyone else who ‘wasn't allowed to quit.’

“I see.” Iris said, stiffly.

Mordechai blinked. “So, we can pretend I'm doing an okay job, and not have me killed by your dad?”

“We will have to pretend, that's for sure.” Iris muttered. “Why are you on his death row, anyway? What did you do?”

“I dunno.” Mordechai shrugged. “I just walked into town and suddenly I was at the business end of fifteen different weapons.” 

“Fool. You can't just walk into town. You are flesh, you have to have papers. Register.” Iris rolled his eye. “There are rules.”

“Some rules.” Mordechai dismissed. “I was only looking for someone. And how does that get me on death row?”

“We've had problems with flesh and blood.” Iris said, turning on his heel to keep walking. 

Mordechai was ready and, this time, kept better pace with Iris. “Alright then. Still kinda pissed that I'm technically one princely tantrum away from beheading.” 

“You aren't helping your case.” Iris replied, dryly.

“But you're going to help me?” Mordechai asked. 

“Just don't insult me anymore, and maybe I'll make sure a guillotine isn't in your future.” Iris replied. 

He ignored the grin that spread across the man's face. Flesh were so expressive- it was irritating. And Mordechai seemed to have nothing to hide.

\--

Iris touched the tip of his sword to the ground, letting himself calm down after yet another sparring match in the garden. There was a lot of pent up annoyance that he'd been channeling through his blade, and his partner needed another break from his relentless attacks.

“How about I give it a shot?” came a voice. 

The voice was all too familiar. Iris narrowed his eye and gave Mordechai a glare. “I thought you were still sleeping.”

“What kind of bodyguard would I be if I slept on the job?” he tilted his head with an easy grin. “But, like I said: how about I give it a shot?”

“You have a death wish.” Iris muttered. 

“Come on. It's obvious your partner is all for it,” Mordechai gestured to the other robot in the gardens, slumping over a bench. He tried lifting a hand in an ‘I'm ok’ gesture, but even that was too exhausting.

Iris huffed. “Fine. But if you die, it's on you.”

“Not like I have any life insurance anyway.” Mordechai remarked, grinning. He walked towards the centre of the ring, unsheathing two blades while he was at it. A long one- about a foot and a half- and a short one. “Ready?”

Without warning, Iris charged, sword raised. He swung down heavily, only to embed the blade in the dirt. Mordechai had easily dodged his attack.

“I said, are you ready?” Mordechai rose a brow, even having the audacity to put his free pair of hands behind his back. He was taunting the Prince. 

With a grumble, Iris turned back. He stepped forward, swinging and parrying as he'd practiced for years. But Mordechai would either dodge or deflect with a light push of his blade. 

“Iris,” he'd say, after dodging. “I'm waiting. You ready?”

“Shut up!” Iris roared, twisting around and swinging with all his might. This time he must've caught the man off guard- instead of jumping out of the way, he rose both blades to catch Iris’ midair, eyes wide as sparks flew. All four of his hands were needed to counter Iris’ strength.

“I'll take that as a yes, then?” Mordechai said, panting. He turned, easily moving away from the robot, and gripped his blades in preparation.

Iris opted for a different approach, focusing more on speed than power. He wasn't quite used to it, but he managed to keep light on his feet. This time he was catching up with Mordechai. Metal clanged on metal, and more sparks flew as they clashed. But Mordechai still taking the defensive and doing well at it.

Eventually Iris swung hard enough to momentarily stun Mordechai, and as he stumbled back, Iris barked a command. “Do something, you fool. Stop toying with me.”

Mordechai shook the stars from his head and squared his shoulders. With a more feral grin, he crouched low, taking out two more blades- both curved and identical.

Then he charged, and Iris had to remind himself not to stare.

He spun like a dancer, using the hooked blades to pull Iris’ hands this way and that, or trip his legs. The other blades sent shallow cuts into Iris’ metal body. That enough was impressive for a Flesh- and it was all so, so fast. 

Not wanting to just endure the attack, the robot picked up his sword and swung with as much tact as he could. He tried guessing where the man would be next, but Mordechai seemed to have a random pattern of attack. No plans whatsoever. Each blow that Iris tried hitting only scraped the edge of Mordechai’s armor, or shaved the tip of his hair. 

Iris was about to call off the match, swinging once more- half heartedly and with a large flourish. That's when he heard a cry. He looked back at Mordechai, who had dropped a blade to hold an opposite elbow.

Blood seeped through his fingers.

Before Iris could figure out what to say, Mordechai only grinned. “Hey, n-nice job. That was… a surprise, to say the least.”

“You bleed,” Iris said, obviously unused to it.

“Yeah, it's- it's a thing that happens,” Mordechai was walking quickly back to where he left a small bag before the fight. “Especially in a fight with blades and such.”

Iris sheathed his weapon, following Mordechai. He'd stopped and was using his hands that weren't bleeding or trying to stop said bleeding, to retrieve something. A roll of… white.

“What are you doing?” Iris asked.

“Well,” Mordechai sat cross-legged on the ground, frowning as he lifted his hand away from the cut. “Usually bleeding isn't good. And this cut is… impressive, so it needs to heal.” he sounded distracted, as he began wrapping the cut with the white. Blood seeped through at first, but he kept applying the bandage until it stopped showing.

“Is that… replacement skin?” Iris inquired. He was, suffice to say, fairly curious.

Mordechai snorted. “No. It's a bandage. It helps the skin and muscle grow back. We don't replace our broken parts, Iris. We can't do that.”

“You insist on fighting, even though your injuries can cripple you for a long time,” Iris said, watching as Mordechai tied off the roll of white and returned it to his bag. “You are a fool.”

“You seem to like that name.” Mordechai muttered, standing up. He'd finished his work and rolled his shoulder a few times to test it out. He faced Iris again. “I've got like three other arms. Tis but a scratch.” he grinned as he said that last line. 

“...fine.” Iris rolled his eye. “But I stand by what I said- you have a death wish.”

Mordechai shrugged, finding his blades and sheathing them. “Not entirely a wish, just less fear of it than everyone else.”

“That is foolish,” Iris said.

“That seems to be a reoccurring theme, doesn't it?”

\--

Iris narrowed his eye at Mordechai. The man hadn't moved in five minutes, and was staring with a look that could kill at a painting in Iris’ study.

“Mordechai. I asked you a question.” Iris said, raising his voice in hopes to get the attention.

All he got in return was a side glare and a ‘Hm?’ with obvious signs of he didn't care.

Iris crossed his arms on his desk. “What the hell has gotten into you?” He demanded. “You could be killed for addressing Royalty like that.”

“Well the Royalty can shove it down his throat,” a pause, “Oh wait, he doesn't have one.”

Iris wanted so badly to retort with some air of authority, but in the weeks that Mordechai had been following him around, he'd noticed the man's usually laid back behavior decrease. He didn't even try to cover it up anymore. 

“What on earth do you mean?” Iris asked, controlling his voice- because one of them had it if they got anywhere with this conversation, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Mordechai.

This time he glared, full on at Iris. “I mean you stupid metalheads don't have any fucking food in this goddamned kingdom.”

Ah. This, Iris understood.

He'd been reading up about fleshkind ever since the bleeding thing. He didn't want to look like an idiot in front of his guard, of course. He'd found out some things- like how humans usually didn't have four arms and three eyes, that their maintenance was tiring and needed constant updating (this one was odd to him- Mordechai had yet to trouble Iris with petty things such as makeup or clothes) and… food was a necessity for life, and if deprived of it, they got moody and-or weak. 

“You're… ‘hungry.’” Iris said. “You lack sustenance.”

“Yeah. I'm fucking starving.” Mordechai retorted. 

Iris curled his hand into a fist under his desk. He hated Mordechai’s tone at the moment, but he told himself it was all at side effect of the food thing. Well, lack of food thing. 

“We'll find something.” Iris said, standing from his desk.

Mordechai looked up, caught off guard. “You're serious?”

This earned an eye roll. “Of course I'm serious. It's a necessity is it not? When's the last time you eat?”

“Ate.”

“Whatever. Answer the question.” Iris commanded, as he opened the door to his study, waiting for Mordechai to get off his ass and follow. 

“Uh. Yesterday.” Mordechai stood and followed Iris, doubt written all over his face. Obviously he didn't think Iris knew apple from oil can. 

“Where have you been getting it?” Iris inquired, as they began to walk down the hall. 

“I brought some rations when I came here. Though I ran out yesterday. Didn't think I'd be here for too long, y'know.” His tone had softened since Iris had made it clear he was going to help find something to eat. Though his shoulders were still tense and his jaw still set. 

It struck Iris how, just after few weeks of knowing the man, he already noticed the telltale signs of emotion. 

Gross.

“Well, there is a human embassy somewhere in the kingdom. They should have accommodations for whatever humans need that robots don't.” Iris explained. “Including… food.”

“Thank fuck.” Mordechai let out a relieved breath. “I'd eat a horse right about now.”

“You'd what-”

“Metaphor! That's a metaphor. We don't regularly eat horses,” Mordechai said quickly. He grinned- and it didn't look stressed or strained like it had for the past week. Iris was happy that Mordechai felt better.

Now he didn't have to deal with his bullshit.

\--

Once again, Iris found himself annoyed by Mordechai’s presence in his study. He wasn't doing anything- merely staring at the ceiling and occasionally popping a grape into his mouth. 

Grapes. They came and two different colors and didn't look like they offered much in the name of nourishment. As well, Mordechai liked to make a game out of eating them- throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth.

It was stupid. 

What else was stupid was the array of different foods that flesh could choose from. For something that accomplished something as simple as nourishment, there were too many ways to dress it up. It seemed to Iris that Mordechai ate something different every day, and many times throughout the day.

Mordechai let out a light chuckle and a ‘damn’ when he missed a grape, and he caught it in his hand instead, before it it the ground. He caught it between his teeth the next time, and looked to Iris for a reaction.

“Do you ever actually do as you're told, or are you just contentedly wasting my time?” Iris inquired, pretending to be more interested in his paperwork. At the moment it was something about the archives and how they should be reorganized, but Iris couldn't care less about a room full of old books.

Mordechai used the knife he'd been fiddling with in one of his hands and used it to stab a grape, bringing it to his mouth. He then gestured the blade at Iris. “I'll have you know, I am superb at my job.”

“This isn't even a real job. You aren't paid. You're literally only here because you and my Father are both friends with Imbi. You don't even want to be here.” Iris said flatly. “All you do is follow me around and eat too much.”

After another small fruit, Mordechai gestured with his blade again, as if it weren't a dangerous weapon. “Tell me, Iris. Have you died at all, since I've been employed?”

“Obviously not.” Iris rolled his eye. “And you're not employed.”

“Then my job is being done adequately.” Mordechai concluded. Before Iris could protest, he held up a finger and continued. “As well- has anyone tried to kill you?”

“...no.” Iris replied, “But you've only been here a month. Attempted assassinations don't happen too frequently.”

“Fair enough. What about those shady people? Have you seen them lately?” Mordechai arched his brow.

That made Iris pause. There was always someone around the castle that rubbed him the wrong way- whether it be an unrecognized maid or a shifty looking peasant. He hadn't taken note of it until now, but those numbers had decreased dramatically since Mordechai had started wondering the castle as well.

Iris took notice of the knife Mordechai held in a slack grip. “What have you been doing?”

“Like I said,” Mordechai answered, popping another grape in his mouth. “My job.”

Iris narrowed his eye, now very accurately suspicious. “You are here on a trial. A punishment for waltzing in like a damned fool. You. Don't. Have. A. Job.”

Mordechai met Iris’ gaze, evenly and with the same easy expression he wore usually. “I was appointed, Iris. I'm honoring your father's orders.”

This only frustrated Iris even more. “Listen, fool. I don't need a bodyguard, and whatever you're doing-”

“Iris, stop.” Mordechai sat up, sheathing his knife. He folded his arms in front of him, still holding the Prince’s gaze, but with a firmer intent. “I get it, you don't like me around-”

“That's not what I said.”

“-That's what you meant,” Mordechai replied sharply, effectively silencing Iris. He waited a bit, then shook his head, dropping his head to look at the floor. “I get it. But, we're both stuck. So I might as well do as I'm told.”

A silence, thick enough to cut, hung heavily between them. It was out, the apparent truth. But...

“I don't… not like you.” Iris said, finally.

Mordechai lifted his gaze, not expecting Iris to say anything. Especially not that. 

“You just… irritated me, for a while,” Iris continued. “Because I don't need protection from someone else. Much less a flesh.”

“...and?”

“And,” Iris huffed, “It turns out that, aside from your very reason for being here is a thorn in my side, you aren't the worst person in this castle.”

This made Mordechai grin, to Iris’ dismay. Dammit, he was supposed to be cold and collected around this infuriating man, like a guard and guarded should be. 

“That oughta be the nicest thing you've said to me, Channel 9.” Mordechai said, his teeth showing as he smiled wide. 

“Yeah, well.” Iris grumbled, going back to his terribly boring paperwork, “We can't have you wanting to quit, now do we?”

There was a light chuckle, and Mordechai fell silent again, staring at the ceiling and occasionally popping a grape in his mouth. 

\--

“There! Perfect!” Mordechai crowed, jumping back from one of Iris’ swings. “Try going for the legs too, buddy. My arms are useless if I'm on the floor.”

“You're too small to ‘go for the legs,’ Mordechai,” Iris replied, spinning the unfamiliar blades in his hands before lunging again.

It had become a normal part of Iris’ schedule, training with Mordechai. After a few sparring matches, the Prince was invested in learning what those curved blades could do. Time after time they rendered Iris’ normal precision useless, and he wanted nothing more than to wield that skill himself. 

It had been a long, long time since Iris last doubted the flesh man. He'd proven himself time after time that, if he wanted, he was an equal match to any robot.

Iris guessed it was the arms. They seemed to help.

“Come on, Iris. You'll have to move a little, don't be afraid to get dirty.” Mordechai let a little teasing tone into his voice. “Or is that too much for the future King?”

“Don't patronize me, fool,” Iris feigned left, then reached down to hook Mordechai’s leg. He landed with a thump on his back. 

“Oh-ho…” Mordechai laughed and winced at the same time. “That's what I'm talking about.” He got to his feet, shaking off the hit. 

They'd been training all morning, by now. Iris was overheating and Mordechai was breathing heavy and covered in shallow cuts, some of them leaking tiny beads of red. Though Mordechai didn't seem to notice- Iris had long since expressed some small form of concern, and Mordechai had long since assured Iris that he didn't care. 

“Wanna keep going?” Mordechai asked, falling into his readied stance.

“You're… dripping.” Iris remarked. 

“Sweating.” Mordechai corrected, taking Iris’ answer as a no and dropping his fists. He took a few breaths, calming his lungs. “It's a human thing. Happens when we work too hard.”

“Disgusting.” 

“That I can agree on,” Mordechai stretched, walking away from the ring and finding his towel on a nearby bench. “I'll have to go back to the embassy to wash. Are you sure the castle has no water?”

“We don't need it. Water doesn't quite mix with machinery, Mordechai.” Iris replied, sheathing his blades. “You'll be back in time for tonight?”

There was a ball to be held for some Niece of the King's birthday. The reason didn't matter; a party thrown by the King for any reason at all was a treat for everyone. Good music, good company, and festivities for peasants and royalty alike. 

Mordechai, after sliding the towel down his face, looked at Iris curiously. “You want me to come?”

“Um, yes?” Iris nodded, as if the answer had been implied beforehand. “Obviously.”

“I didn't think… wouldn't I be the only flesh guy there?” Mordechai asked. He began shedding pieces of armor, setting it in a neat pile beside his blades. “Plus you don't need a bodyguard, those parties are secured tighter than anything I've ever seen.”

“Doesn't mean you can't come,” Iris said, draping his cape back around his shoulders. “You've been here for, what, half a year now?”

Mordechai surpassed a crooked smile. “Yeah, I guess. I'll be back before it starts,” he promised.

“You'd better be. That's an order.” Iris said, crossing his arms as he watched Mordechai leave for the embassy. 

“Are we doing orders, now?” Mordechai called back. “Kinky.”

Iris shook his head, scoffing. Then, when Mordechai was gone, he decided now was a good a time as ever to start preparing for the ball. 

And learn the name of that niece.

\--

As the Prince, Iris was one of the poor saps who had to greet the guests, along with the King and his primary advisor. And he hated it. He hated having to stand and be gawked at while Retina- the name of that confounded niece- got to sit at the central table and act like she was queen for a day.

Yes, it was her birthday, but Iris wasn't appreciating the waves of servants who notified him, multiple times, that ‘Her duchess Retina has requested that we tell you the following message: “Prince Iris is… stinky.”’ 

Of course he remembered, now, that he detested Retina and her entire family branch. 

“Welcome to the Duchess’ honorary celebration,” Iris said to the next guest, trying his damnedest to keep his voice lively. “The lady requests that all guests mind their own business and leave the gifts in the centre.”

“The lady sounds like a prick.” Came a familiar voice.

Iris actually looked at the ‘guest’ in front of him. Mordechai smiled at him, obviously amused. 

“Thank god you're here,” Iris said, letting his faked happiness drop out of his tone. “This is the absolute worst and it's all Retina’s fault.”

“Did she make you say that terrible line?” Mordechai arched a brow. “Because I don't think it's helping.”

“Yes. She's in charge for the night- and that isn't the best idea.” Iris replied, happy to let his frustrations. 

Mordechai took up his place beside Iris, standing with his arms behind his back and letting his gaze rake over the crowd. He hummed, then looked back to Iris. “It is an impressive party. I've never seen so many terrible dresses in one room.”

Iris tried not to laugh. “And I thought I was the only one who thought so.”

“Are you kidding?” Mordechai snorted. “Your Kingdom needs to catch up a few decades in the fashion department.”

“Not so loud, someone's going to hear you and short-circuit.” Iris said, though he did allow a chuckle. 

Mordechai looked at Iris with wide eyes. “Wait, you guys can actually short-circuit?” he inquired, blinking. “You giant, indestructible metalheads have robot-aneurysms?”

“It's more equal to one of your human ‘strokes.’” Iris replied, nodding to a passing guest. “But yes. I suppose you're right.”

“That's fucking gold.” Mordechai flashed his teeth at a few younger guests who were ogling the only thing made of flesh in the building. Then he looked at Iris with a maniacal grin. “I'm unnerving people.”

“And that makes you happy?” Iris gave him a look.

“No. I'm just used to it.” Mordechai shrugged and went back to surveying the room. “It's a sort of advantage.”

Half an hour dragged on, Iris greeting different guests- some he recognised, others might as well been born yesterday- while Mordechai would nod dutifully at them as they passed. Not many spared the man a glance. Iris almost regretted having Mordechai there- it was obvious he wasn't entirely accepted by the population.

Soon enough, the music changed. Retina had fallen asleep, and was hauled away by her mother's servants. The King resumed his place at the high table and the elegant part of the evening commenced. 

Relaxing a little, Iris began to walk away from the doors, thankful to be relieved of his post. Mordechai, as always, followed. 

“Iris, hang on,” Mordechai piped up. There was a smile on his face- it was different than his usual, mocking grin. “Listen.”

Iris stopped. The music was light, with a lot of strings. Upon inspection of his surroundings, Iris found that people were pairing up, dancing with one another. He looked back at Mordechai. “What about it?”

The man smiled at him, lifting his brow. With a flourish, he bowed slightly, holding out his hand.

“No.” Iris ordered. 

“Your highness,” Mordechai said, anyway, a cheeky look on his face. “May I have this dance?”

“Are you insane?” Iris asked.

“More or less.” Mordechai didn't falter. “Is that a yes?”

Iris glanced over at his father. He looked distracted. With a slight sigh, he took Mordechai’s hand, silently taking up the traditional dances rhythmic steps. 

Turns out, he wasn't half bad.

The entire time he wore a grin on his face, beaming. Never once did he misstep. To Iris, it was impressive. To say the least.

“I've got to say, I'm not used to being the lady in these dances.” Mordechai admit, as Iris lead the two across the floor.

“You're too small to be the man,” Iris replied.

“Is that a joke?” Mordechai grinned wider, impossibly. “Iris. I didn't know you had it in you.”

Iris didn't tell Mordechai how he didn't joke until he was confident in someone. He didn't tell Mordechai that he was enjoying the dance so much he could relax enough to make a jest in the first place. He didn't tell Mordechai that the world had melted from around them, suddenly, and that he was okay if it were just the two of them left. 

“I figured I should keep up with you,” He said, instead. 

Both of them laughed, as the music and the dance continued, the two swaying just in time to the lively beat. 

It was quiet, but as Mordechai commented more on something or other, Iris picked up the smallest of sounds from his father's direction. A grunt, and when Iris turned, his father was staring right at him.

Oh no. He wasn't ready.

“Iris?” Mordechai asked, making Iris glance down once more. “You good? I don't think I stepped on your toes yet.” even with the lightness of the phrase, Mordechai looked concerned.

“It's… nothing.” Iris said, slowing down. “Merely tired. I hate these parties, they're never fun for the ones who throw them.”

Mordechai looked a little crestfallen to have halted the dance, but offered Iris a smile anyway. “Wanna get out of here? I can honestly think of fifteen places I'd rather be, just off the top of my head.”

“Do any of them include the Kingdom?” Iris inquired, leading Mordechai to the exit. He hoped the man didn't notice the route he took completely obscured the two of them from the King's table. 

“Sure they do. Your bedroom is one of them,” Mordechai said slyly.

Usually the flirt would've gone over Iris’ head- the impromptu pickup lines had started a few weeks ago and Iris had grown used to them- but under the circumstances with his father and the music and the party… he needed to get out of there. 

“Let's go there, then,” Iris said.

Mordechai stumbled, despite his confidence. “What? Iris. Buddy. Are you okay? You do know what ‘going to the bedroom’ means? As far as I know it's not just a human thing.”

Iris mentally kicked himself. “No- I mean- ugh. I just meant it's on the other side of the castle. No one who will actually ‘want the bedroom’ would walk that far.”

“Right.” Mordechai didn't sound convinced. But, he followed Iris as they walked across the castle. 

When the sounds of the party had faded, and it was just their footsteps echoing off the walls, Mordechai piped up again. “Hey, Channel 9. You ok?” 

“Of course I am.” Iris replied.

A pause. “You're… acting a little weird.”

“I didn't notice.”

Mordechai slowed down, stopping in the middle of the hall. Iris stopped as well, looking back. “What?”

“What?” Mordechai shrugged. “Was it something I did? Did I embarrass you in front of your robot friends? I don't know what it is but something’s eating you, buddy. Sorry if it was me.”

“Of course it's not you,” Iris scoffed. “We've discussed this. I don't like parties, they bore me.”

“...are you sure?” Mordechai confirmed, stepping closer. 

“I'm sure.” Iris replied, his voice dropping as Mordechai came closer. He wasn't talking to anyone else, so he didn't have to be so loud. 

“Okay.” Mordechai smiled again, and it sent a wave of relief through Iris. “Bedroom?”

“Ha, Ha.”

They walked back to the bedroom, their atmosphere significantly lighter than before. Iris preferred it that way.

There was a bed in Iris room- not that he used it. Beds were more decoration, but it was more comfortable to wake up in one than standing up after a recharge. 

Though, Mordechai adored the silk sheets and fluffy comforter. As soon as they entered, he collapsed onto the bed, letting out a sound of bliss. 

“Goddamn, this is so much better than my bed.” he said, voice muffled by pillows.

“Do you want to use it?” Iris inquired.

Mordechai turned his head to give him an amused look. “Honestly Iris, stop making unintentional innuendos. I'll have to act on them.”

“You know what I mean.” The Prince rolled his eye, sitting on the end of the bed, and reaching down to untie his boots. 

The bed shifted as Mordechai made himself comfortable, looking like he was on cloud nine. “I can't thank you enough, buddy.”

Iris hummed in response, about to say something more. But Mordechai had fallen asleep completely. 

The Prince made a sound of amusement.

\--

Recharge complete; 100%. Good morning, Prince Iris.

The text etched across his vision, as Iris woke up. Like every morning, not really looking forward to the paperwork he knew was laying on his desk.

But, unlike every morning, someone else's presence accompanied him. More specifically, weighing down his right arm. 

Iris glanced over. Mordechai, still dressed in the suit he wore the night before, was sound asleep. And laying on Iris’ arm. 

It was incredible. He didn't have any smug look on his face, he didn't have his next sarcastic remark ready on his tongue, and he wasn't moving. It was the calmest Iris had ever seen him. 

Thank god he didn't snore. That would've ruined the moment entirely. 

But he did shift a little, making a tired sound and turning away from Iris, and off his arm. Finally free, Iris rose from the bed, finding his boots, his cape. 

There was another tired sound that came from Iris’ bed, and the Prince turned to see Mordechai sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He took a look at his surroundings, then finally let his gaze land on Iris, with a slight arch of his brow. 

“I didn't do anything you'd regret, right?” he asked, voice thick. 

“Isn't it supposed to be something you'd regret?” Iris replied, pretending not to be interested in how Mordechai looked when he was disheveled and sleepy.

“Nah, I don't regret anything,” Mordechai said, stretching. “It helps me sleep.”

Iris scoffed. “That can't be a good thing on your morality.”

“Who said anything about morality?” Mordechai's usual easy grin had returned. He rose from the bed and stretched again, before shedding his blazer. “I think that you think I've done terrible things.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Probably not.” Mordechai admit. “But everything I've done got me here, did it not? How can I regret that?”

Iris glanced at Mordechai, admittedly surprised. “You don't regret being here?”

“Of course not, Channel 9. I literally just woke up next to you.” Mordechai gave him an amused look. “And I might have been trying to figure out how to kiss you for the past week.” 

“You- what?” Iris backpedaled a bit, replaying Mordechai's sentence in his mind. He didn't really just say that, did he? Iris must still be dreaming, or something.

Mordechai chuckled, a little nervously. “Uh, yeah. I think that I like you, Iris. I like being able to make sure you're safe every day, even though you don't think I have to. I like being by your side almost always. I…” he shrugged. “I just don't know how to show you.”

Iris had to remind himself to say something. He fumbled for words, not entirely having prepared for this. What was he supposed to say? ‘Actually, I like you too, but my dad doesn't know I'm gay and courting a human would probably just make it harder to come out.’ Yeah. That definitely made the moment. 

“Mordechai-” Iris started, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of them deflated as the moment shattered. Iris pent up of things unsaid, and Mordechai looking drained from all the things he did say. 

“Ah, maybe you should get that,” Mordechai said, keeping his voice airy. A knock came again, but the strength of it wasn't normal for housekeeping or an incoming message.

“Hold on..” Iris tensed, sensing something off. 

The door splintered. Mordechai moved to block Iris from whatever came from the hallway, a look that could kill on his face. Somehow, maybe because of what Mordechai just told him, Iris didn't feel the usual pang of annoyance when he made a move to ‘protect’ the Prince. 

About half a dozen of the Royal Guard filtered through the broken door, weapons drawn and ready. The captain- a robot Iris normally butt heads with- stepped forward and pointed accusingly at Mordechai, who only snarled more.

“You are under arrest.” He announced.

“For what?” Mordechai said, somehow able to make it sound like a threat.

“Your trial is up. You've failed.” The Captain said. He looked happy with the turn of events, and looked down condescendingly as the rest of the robot guards stepped forward to apprehend Mordechai.

“Hey- hey! Fuck off will you?” Mordechai seethed, as he was swarmed. The grips on his arms were so strong Iris could see the fragile flesh already turning purple. 

“Stop.” Iris commanded, voice booming. He fought to get between Mordechai and the nearest robot. “I am your prince and I command you to cease this instant.”

“Our orders come from someone… higher.” The Captain said, easily pulling Iris away. “You have no discretion here. Besides- you never wanted it in the first place, did you? It's degrading, being under the so-called ‘protection’ of a flesh.”

Iris glared at the Captain with a look that could freeze hell, but then his attention was snagged by Mordechai. He was being dragged out the door, kicking and snarling. 

“Hm. This won't do.” The Captain sighed, walking over and kneeling to Mordechai's level. “Stop struggling, vermin.”

“Fuck you.” Mordechai spat back. Then he looked to Iris. “I think you need better security, there's a problem with this software.”

“For someone on death row, you talk a big game.” The Captain replied. “Take him away.”

“Iris won't let you kill me,” Mordechai bit out, as he was hauled to his feet. When he didn't hear an agreement- or anything for that matter- from Iris, he looked over, desperately. “Iris…?”

He was rooted. Stuck- someone higher than him gave the command? This was impossible. His father wouldn't really take something so meagre as a dance so seriously. And he wouldn't take it out on Mordechai, before at least a warning…

Would he?

“Iris,” Mordechai called again. He was being taken, and there wasn't much Iris could do. “Iris? Please don't let them take me! IRIS!”

His voice echoed down the hall, as the guards left the room. It resonated through him, his name, so desperate and scared- from the one man Iris had assumed had no fear.

“Not a wish,” Iris remembered. “Just less fear of it than everyone else.”

So, what was he afraid of?

\--

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Iris demanded. He'd thrown open the doors to his Father's study and slammed his hands on the desk. “Let him go.”

His father looked up at Iris, a less patient look plain on the screen. “I assure you I have no idea what you mean, Iris. Please, find your place and explain to me why you've barged into my office.”

“Mordechai.” Iris seethed, but kept his voice at the most respectful he could muster. “You ordered him to be killed? He was fine at my side, father. I never said I was finished with his trial.” 

His father sat back, crossing his arms. “I did nothing of the sort.”

Iris snarled, almost exploding at the King. But he managed to keep his voice level. “Father, with all due respect, I believe lying to a Prince is an offense.”

“As a king, I cannot lie to my people, especially my son.” The King regained his patience, now understanding that there must've been some sort of miscommunication. “Calm down, Iris. Tell me what happened.”

Iris narrowed his eye and crossed his arms. “Your royal guards broke down my door and dragged Mordechai out right before my eye. Captain Aqueous said ‘someone higher’ gave the order. Who else is higher than the Prince?”

His father drummed his fingers on the desk. “There is one other robot who can give orders above you, Iris.” The King reminded him.

“The advisor.” Iris said, his arms dropping.

“Iris.” The King stood from his desk. “I will help you, but you have some explaining to do. We might as well talk as we go. I don't doubt the prison workers have a little more bias over the human race.”

There were many things Iris admired about his father. This compassion he showed, as a King should, was definitely one of them. And he was so, so grateful for it.

Father and Son walked through the halls, and Iris began to explain. 

“Yesterday, at Retina’s celebration…” Iris started.

“Yes, I did see.” The King said. “...is that… what you want, my son?”

Iris, after a moment of thought, answered. “Yes. And I haven't told him that, yet. I need to. You understand, right?”

The King nodded. “It's… certainly not the path I would've chosen for you. But, even with a power like mine, I cannot change your mind.” 

“Father,” Iris said, stopping in his tracks to give him an earnest look. “Thank you. I thought that you'd… but…”

“I understand, Iris.” The King replied, settling a hand on his son's shoulder. “But we're also losing time. Shall we?”

“Of course.” Iris replied, and they set off down the again.

The prisons were loud. People crying out for mercy, or in insanity. And then guards yelling back to shut up. But even with all the noise, one voice rose above all.

“You fuckers don't know what you're talking about.” Mordechai’s voice sounded hoarse already- apparently he'd been yelling a lot. “I did absolutely nothing.”

“Quite the character, Iris,” The King commented.

“He's better when he's relatively relaxed.” Iris replied. He followed the voice, weaving between guards and hands that reached out from cell bars.

Mordechai was at the end of the hall, struggling with two other robots who looked like they just wanted to get it over with and kill the man. Clearly Mordechai wasn't one to give up easy.

“Unhand him,” Iris commanded. 

Mordechai looked up, pausing in his struggle long enough for the guard to shove him to the floor and pin him there. He let out a groan of pain, muttering something about how he wasn't made of metal, you bastards. 

“We're under King's orders, Prince-” one of the guards began.

“The King commands that you unhand him.” Iris’ father came up from behind Iris and stared down the two guards, who immediately stepped back and stood at attention.

Mordechai, looking a little worse for wear, stumbled to his feet. “Jeez- thank you.” he nodded his head in a tired bow. “I wasn't entirely prepared for cardio today.”

The King nodded back, once, and then signalled for the guards to get their metal ass’ out of there. 

“I'll take care of this… miscommunication my Right Hand has committed. Iris, I trust you can handle things from here.” The King said. Then he himself left, leaving Iris alone with his guard.

Mordechai tried for his usual grin, but he seemed a little too exhausted to put any effort into it. “Thanks for saving my sorry ass.” he said. “I didn't know if the last thing I would've said to you was-”

Iris interrupted him by pulling him in for a tight embrace. It was like hugging a pillow. Small and squishy. Iris loved it, but decided not to mention it in the moment.

“I like you too.” Iris told him, instead.

“O-oh.” Mordechai said, quietly. He cautiously pulled closer, and Iris could feel all the tension disappear from the man, in a shuddering breath. 

The protector had been protected.

\--

Iris, for the eighth time in a row, felled his sparring opponent. Too easy, having taken only half a minute- and only because Iris had toyed with him for the first twenty seconds.

He looked to where Mordechai was watching, beaming as Iris showed off. 

“When are you going to be able to return?” Iris asked, crossing his arms. “You're the only worthy opponent in this castle.”

“A broken rib only gets worse if I use it, Channel 9.” Mordechai called back. “Felix said in a week.”

“You humans. So fragile.” Iris muttered, deciding that practice was finished for the day. He moved to sit beside Mordechai, easily slinging an arm behind the man's shoulders. 

“Fragile only when you metalheads decide to use me as your punching bag.” Mordechai defended. 

“That was a little extreme, yes.” Iris mused. “But you wouldn't stop moving.”

“Do the words ‘Death Row’ mean anything to you?” Mordechai lifted his brow. 

“You said you weren't afraid of death.” Iris reminded him, giving him a lightly challenging look. “You should've been cool through the whole ordeal.”

“It wasn't the death that scared me, Prince Charming.” Mordechai answered. He leaned into Iris, watching amusedly as Iris’ sparring opponent picked himself off the ground and trudged back to the castle. 

Iris hummed, in signal for him to go on.

“I just didn't want to leave you.” Mordechai admit. “Gross, right?”

“Truly.” Iris replied.


End file.
